Invading The Bird's Nest
by Dajypop
Summary: The best way to steal the warmest bed in the base is to wait for the bird to fly the coop for an hour.


**Title:** Invading The Bird's Nest  
 **Author:** Daisy  
 **Fandom:** Team Fortress 2  
 **Setting:** BLU Base, BLU Medic's bedroom  
 **Pairing:** BLU Heavy/BLU Medic, BLU Sniper/BLU Scout (Mentioned)  
 **Characters:** Romochka Utkin (BLU Heavy), Johan Amsel (BLU Medic), Weylon Jones (BLU Scout), James Blair (BLU Demoman)  
 **Genre:** Romance/Humor  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Chapters:** 1/1  
 **Word Count:** 1249  
 **Type of Work:** One-Shot  
 **Status:** Complete  
 **Warnings:** Gay, Slash, Yaoi, Mentioned Mpreg fears  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.  
 **Summary** The best way to steal the warmest bed in the base is to wait for the bird to fly the coop for an hour.

 **AN:** I have too much fun going through the OTPPrompts tumblr. xD This sort of came about because I wanted to use this prompt for a Medic pairing, but wasn't quite sure which. My beta very eloquently helped me decide by telling me, "DOKTOR." So, here, have some fluffy, if not awkwardly adorable babes. This one is dedicated to my beta, James, who is so helpful and wonderful, I'm lucky to have him.

Prompt: Person A returns home really late at night (some time in the stupid hour…like 3am) after a really long meeting or something and is so ready to hit the sack - only to discover that Person B went to bed a few hours earlier and took literally all of the covers.

 **Invading The Bird's Nest** ****

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Johan was seconds away from murdering the next person that stepped through the medbay doors. Removing his glasses a moment to rub his eyelids with his thumb and forefinger, he heaved a great sigh and slumped forward on the stainless steel examination table. The soft cooing of his doves as they slept above him left a small, somewhat ironic smile on his face; at least _someone_ could sleep, even with all of the ridiculous bullshit his teammates brought him to deal with during ceasefires. Weylon was more than certain that he was pregnant because of some horror story that James had cooked up just for his benefit, and despite all of the scientific and _obviously_ dumbed down explanations, the scout refused to leave until he'd been tested.

Which had very much _tested_ the German's patience. The thought to give him something to actually worry about had crossed his mind more times than he cared to count throughout the tiring four hours it took to convince him that there was no way it could happen. In the end, he'd had to say that Richie was too old to do anything better than shoot blanks, which he was certain had been the cause for the bullet in his ass later on in the day. Even still, they were both lucky that he was saving that Mega Baboon uterus for something else, because it would have been hilarious (and medically intriguing) to send the scout back to his boyfriend sans penis.

Of course, someone like Weylon would have been crying the whole time the surgery was going on; just because he shouldn't be awake for it didn't mean he should be such a baby. Romochka could handle complex heart surgery, while awake, on top of other traumas that probably should have been stitched up before hand, with only minimal complaining. What he wouldn't give to have his entire team be as manly and capable as the Heavy no doubt already slumbering in his room. It was a mere six steps from the medbay doors to the other man's bedroom, but he could hardly drag himself to his desk by the time everyone else was finally heading for bed. Flopping into his chair, he heaved a heavy sigh and closed his eyes, tossing the thin-framed glasses onto the tabletop. There were still dictations to be made, notes and paperwork that would need to be done before the Administrator woke in the morning…

Though, he supposed, it would do him no good to attempt them when he could barely focus bleary crystalline eyes with his glasses _on_ , let alone trying to get his mind on anything but revenge surgery and sleep. With a long, languorous stretch that lasted until he heard several snicks and cracks run down his spine and around his shoulder joints, he finally rose once more, grabbing up his spectacles and sliding them carefully into the front pocket of his labcoat. Heaving another sigh, more in anticipation than frustration, this time, the medic finally started the seemingly endless trek to his bedroom, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand when he finally arrived.

Now, Romochka was not a man that was very good with stealth. He was loud in every sense of the word, from his booming voice, to his favorite weapons, to the horrendous colors and patterns of his vacation-oriented outfits. It was with this obvious logic in his mind that the German puzzled over how such a large, generally screaming man could have snuck past him sometime during the night. Another question trying to claw at his brain, however, was just what the Russian thought he was doing, stowing away in his bed and turning into a giant, sleepy burrito. Exhaustion managed to be a fairly convincing barrier between these thoughts and those focused on finding a sliver of bed large enough to fit him, stealing a corner of the blanket big enough to cover his hips, and go to bed. Questions could be left for the morning.

Of course, these ideas were all well and good, but damn near impossible. The Heavy had gone and flopped his enormous body in the very middle of the bed, the blankets tucked around him like someone else had done it, and this left very little room for the poor man that had only wanted to sleep. Turning his back on this conundrum, he shook his head as he wandered to his armoire, pulling off his coat and setting his glasses on a special ledge just for them. The vest and shirt came off next, then his shoes and finally his pants, before he began to pull out his usual nightshirt. Tugging it over his head, he gave another yawn that he tried to stifle behind his hand, but it nearly shook him to the core. Mind focusing on the problem at hand once more, he rose a delicate brow before stepping forward, finally, stroking his chin in thought.

There seemed to be a small break in the solid form beneath his wool blankets, which would have to work for his opening to get into bed. It took a bit of climbing and adjusting before he managed to get tucked up into Romochka's arm, the large muscles there pillowing his head. Sure, it wasn't the most comfortable position, but it would work itself out; he was too tired to try for anything better. Eyelids fluttering shut, eyelashes dusting his cheeks, the German settled in for a semi-uncomfortable, long night's rest. Well, as long as he could get coming to bed at four o'clock A.M. When he was finally on the verge of sleep, of course, something else caught his attention.

A tidal wave of warm muscle suddenly threatened to overtake Johan completely as his sometimes-lover rolled over onto his side. Shrieking with surprise, his eyes went wide as he was nearly bulldozed on the spot, only for the larger man to tut at him in his sleep, tucking him up against him and making sure that there was nary a bit of skin, clothed or not, that wasn't touching. The Russian only seemed happy once he was completely certain that, aside from swallowing the doctor whole, they couldn't get any closer if they tried. He murmured something under his breath, before repeating himself, somewhere between sleep and wake.

"Doktor sleep well. Warm and close."

The second after he'd uttered the last word, a snore left him that made the smaller man wonder just how awake the other truly had been, but he had barely any time to really consider it. If nothing else, he'd been right about how warm it was, under three blankets and with a giant heater of a man pressed at his back. Finally able to grab for his rather flat pillow, he settled it down beneath his head, and in mere seconds (he had gotten to seven sheep before losing count), he was out like a light.

-

"Doktor, yes. I am doktor." Romochka's grin was broad enough to take over his entire head.

"Uh… Yeah, no, big guy, ya ain't. I needa see the doc-"

" _Romochka_ is doktor today." The Heavy informed once more, "Doktor is…" _Sleeping like a baby in the nest he'd left him tucked in when he'd turned off his alarm that morning_ , "Busy today. Romochka doktor."

"...Riiiiight." Weylon had never run from the medbay faster in his life.

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 **AN:** I… Enjoyed writing that way more than I should have. xD I hope you guys enjoy! It was a pleasure to write.


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